50 Ways
by amildsortoforgy
Summary: There are 50 ways to leave your lover. Severus Snape needs just one. Response to the WIKTT challenge. HGSS
1. Chapter 1: Rude Awakening

Title: 50 Ways  
  
Author: Sara Newberry (prncssme@yahoo.com)  
  
Rated: PG-13  
  
Pairing: HG/SS  
  
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, just like to play with 'em.  
  
Summary: Though there are 50 ways and reasons to leave your lover, Severus Snape needs just one. Response to the WIKTT challenge.  
  
Author's Notes: I would appreciate any and all reviews as this is my first foray into HP fanfiction though definitely not my first fanfic. Flames will be used for warmth until my heater is fixed and then generally ignored. Enjoy!  
  
He had wanted his sudden arrival at home to be a happy surprise. Sitting in his office at Hogwarts just a half hour earlier, he had imagined the pleased look on her face when he walked through the door, kissed her, then took her to the bedroom to make careful love to her over the growing mound of her pregnant belly. He had savoured these thoughts all through the snowy, brisk walk from the school to his tiny rented house in Hogsmeade. He had thought of how he was going to inform her that they would be married after the successful birth of a live child, her reward for giving him the child he craved without knowing why.   
  
Many people would laugh if they knew that Severus Snape, Potion Master and all around greasy git, had somehow convinced a woman like Persia Pendleton to become his lover for the sole purpose of bearing him a child. In the three years since Voldemort had been defeated, he had found himself longing for a stability that was finally, for the first time ever, within his grasp. A family, a legacy, a name for himself outside that of Professor or Death Eater. These were the rewards he sought, though at first he had been disgusted by his mundane longings. But as he had watched most of those around him settle into a security that had not been possible for over twenty years, he'd decided to make a change for himself as well. Only Dumbledore and his potions assistant knew.  
  
This change had brought him to the threshold of his tiny bathroom in a tiny cottage, gaping in horror at Persia's flat, definitely-not-pregnant belly. She hadn't seen him yet, for which he was grateful but the smooth line of her body was clearly visible through the cheap plastic shower curtain that surrounded the clawed porcelain tub. He was unsure of what spell she had been using to convince him of her pregnancy but it was obviously something she used only in his presence. He paled at the thought of the powerful magic behind the thumping and rolling he had personally felt on the surface of her belly and the ease with which she had lied to him. Lied. Silently, he shut the bathroom door and moved slowly to sit in the threadbare armchair by the fireplace he had claimed as his own.  
  
With a mutter, he summoned a glass of firewhiskey from the kitchen and kept his eyes focused on the closed bathroom door. He sipped slowly at his drink, feeling the potent alcohol burning slowly down his throat and igniting the dormant fury in his belly. That bitch! He thought to himself as he heard the water in the other room cease to flow. He intended to confront her but knew he needed to be calm, cool, and collected which would require all of his Slytherin cunning. Although Persia claimed to be a tried and true Ravenclaw, he now suspected she was more snake than eagle.  
  
As though this thought had summoned her, Persia emerged from the steam filled bathroom, completely nude with droplets of moisture still gleaming on her skin. Her dark, curly brown hair was piled artfully on top of her head and her equally dark brown eyes widened just slightly upon seeing the dark figure in the chair. Persia felt a lurch in her chest as she realized how lucky she was to have thought of re-casting her charm before emerging from the bathroom.  
  
"Severus, darling, what brings you home so early?" She glanced at the empty hearth and the unlit candles. The room was bathed in the dim grey light of an afternoon snowfall in late winter. "Why haven't you lit the candles?"  
  
Dark eyes glittered in the gathering gloom and Persia felt a twinge of foreboding where relief had filled her just moments before. She felt frozen to the spot by those cold eyes and for the first time felt a flicker of fear rather than pity as she gazed upon the man in the chair.  
  
"How were you planning to pull it off?" He said dispassionately, his gaze dropping to her now bulging belly for the first time since she had entered the room.  
  
She had the good grace to flush slightly before stammering, "I-I'm not sure what you mean…"   
  
"How long did you intend to let me think you were carrying my child?" His voice was chillingly cold and the fear burst through her, making her knees shake. He knew of her lie. She harboured no illusions regarding the revenge he would surely take, she knew what he had been for she'd seen the faded mark upon his arm. Her only hope lay in denial, she was sure of it.  
  
"But I am carrying your child!" She burst out, her hand flying to her belly.   
  
"No you are not." He could feel his calm demeanour begin to crack and fought hard to keep his voice steady.  
  
"Yes I am!" She screamed at him, her entire body trembling. "I don't know whether you are genuinely insane or just winding me up. But I'm tired, I'm stressed and I'm fighting for patience. I've got three things to say to you - shut up, shut up and shut up!"   
  
  
  
Snape rose from his chair in an instant, his eyes blazing and wand out. She backed up involuntarily and braced herself for the Unforgivable he would unleash upon her. She only hoped he wouldn't torture her for too long before finally killing her. But he did nothing, only breathed shallowly for several seconds.  
  
  
  
"I am going back to Hogwarts where I will spend the rest of my night. I will return tomorrow and if you are still unwilling to tell me the truth…" Here he paused and she saw his grip on his wand tighten. "I will deal with you then. If you are not here, I will find you and force the truth from you." With a swirl of his robes and an uncharacteristic slam of the door, he was gone. Persia breathed a sigh of relief and sank to the floor, mindless of her nudity.   
  
****  
  
Hermione Granger hummed happily to herself as she slowly stirred her cauldron of Dreamless Sleep potion. Madame Pomfrey was in constant need of the potion and as the resident potions apprentice, she was proud to brew up a batch or two. Leaving it to bubble quietly over the open flame, she began to organize and put away the ingredients se no longer needed. After two and a half years, she knew where Professor Snape kept everyone of his potions ingredients and the hell she'd have to pay if a single one was out of place. She had just emerged from the storeroom when the door slammed open and Snape swept dramatically into his workroom.  
  
"Professor?" She raised a dark eyebrow as he marched towards his currently brewing potions. "I thought you were spending the night at home."  
  
Snape didn't even bother to look over his shoulder as he hissed, "You thought wrong. Kindly take your annoying self off, Miss Granger."  
  
  
  
"Merlin help me," she sighed and rolled her eyes. "You know you don't really mean that."  
  
  
  
"For once I do. Now get out."   
  
Perching herself upon the edge of her worktable, she folded her arms across her chest with a half smile on her face. "Now it can't be all that bad. Lover's Quarrel? Persia want parsnip ice cream and toadstools for dinner?"  
  
"Persia is not pregnant." He looked at her for the first time since entering the room and her breath caught in her throat at the pain she saw etched in his gaze. Automatically, she jumped to the wrong conclusion.  
  
"She lost the baby? She always seemed so healthy and I …" she trailed off, watching his reaction. The painful look had been replaced by a hard glare and even she wasn't immune to that look, though many things had changed since her student days.  
  
"I will say this once and never again. She never was pregnant; it was all a lie," he sneered. "If you say anything about this to anyone, I will have you out of this castle so fast, your head will spin."  
  
For the first time since her graduation, she believed him and held her tongue.  
  
**To be continued…** 


	2. Chapter 2: Silence

A/N: Thanks to those who have reviewed already! I appreciate every one of your comments! ~Sara  
  
Chapter 2  
  
The silence in the dungeon workroom was so complete, Hermione fancied she could hear her Professor's anger churning in his stomach. She watched him stare morosely into his cauldron, her concern for him deepening and growing until she felt she'd burst with it. His harsh announcement had shocked her so thoroughly that she had forgotten how to breathe for several terrible seconds. Her own potion had long since been finished, stoppered, and delivered to the hospital wing but she hadn't wanted to leave the Potions Master in his current state. For the first time in years, she was afraid of what he might do to himself. After all, she knew all too well what he could do in a fit of melancholy.  
  
Three years later, she still couldn't say what had drawn her to Professor Snape's office that cold December night. She had been in the common room of Gryffindor tower playing exploding snap with Ron and Harry, smiling at the celebrations going on around her. It had been the end of term and just one week after Harry had defeated Voldemort for what everyone knew was to be the final time. Harry still looked the worse for the wear, a bandage covering his scar which had burst open and bled for two days after the battle. His arm was still stiff and bandaged though Madame Pomfry had mended the break with a quick flick of her wand and he could barely walk what with the bruises covering nearly every inch of his body. Despite his injuries, Harry was the happiest Hermione had ever seen him and her heart ached with his joy.  
  
Surrounded by happiness and warmth, Hermione had jumped in shock when a wave of cold descended upon her. No one else had seemed to notice but her heart skipped a beat as she felt despair so deep it hurt wash through her and she knew something in the castle was terribly wrong. She had stood quickly, dumping her cards and Crookshanks to the floor, and bolted for the portrait hole, Harry and Ron calling after her urgently. Once out in the hall, the portrait swinging shut over her friends' increasingly frantic calls, she'd begun to run.  
  
Her feet had taken her to the door of Snape's office and for a brief moment she felt beyond foolish for what she was about to do. But as the icy feelings covered her again, she threw open the door and stopped just across the threshold. At first she thought he was merely sitting in the chair behind his desk, his head resting against the back, his eyes closed. Then she'd noticed the knife lying loosely in his hand and the blood pouring from a wound on his lower arm, the loss of which was causing his pallid skin to turn an even sicklier shade of white. With a short cry, she had rushed to his side, knocking shelves from their cases in her haste.  
  
She was horrified at the state of her Professor's arm. Even as she'd torn a strip from the bottom of her robes to press against the wound, she'd wondered what could bring a man to such self destruction. The skin of his forearm was completely shredded to ribbons except for the dark mark which was angry red and visibly throbbing. Hermione fought against the urge to vomit and pushed her swatch of black fabric firmly against the copious flow of blood.  
  
"Blimey, what's he done to himself?" The whispered question was harsh and loud in the stillness of darkened room. Hermione looked up to see Ron standing in the doorway, his eyes unbelieving as he took in the sight before him. Panic began to beat against her brain as the blood continued to drain and Ron continued to stare.  
  
"Ron!" Her voice was shrill and high; she barely recognized it. "Ron, the fireplace! Use the Floo Powder, get McGonagall!" Her fingers were slick with blood as fear welled up inside her, choking her with its intensity. She heard Ron's voice break as he stammered to Professor McGonagall. It seemed like an eternity before a group of professors emerged from the fire and took Snape away from her but it was only a matter of moments. When they were gone, she felt the silence close around her and Ron's voice had echoed through as she'd fainted dead away.  
  
****  
  
The growl of her stomach had brought her firmly back to the present and the memories of that dark night faded away. Professor Snape was still sitting behind his cauldron but now he was watching her, his expression unreadable. She half smiled at him and returned her eyes to the notes she'd been trying to take before her mind had wandered to the past.   
  
"Miss Granger, it is now one quarter past eleven at night. Why are you still here?" His voice was smooth and calm as it broke the eternal silence.  
  
She glanced up toward him and shrugged. "I didn't feel as though you could be trusted not to completely botch that potion you've been brewing for a week, Professor."  
  
"You are beyond impertinent," he sneered but there was no malice behind it. "You are also here on your night off. What does Mr. Weasley think of that?"  
  
"It's none of your business, of course, but I have…" She hesitated. "I've broken it off." The change in Snape's expression was imperceptive but she could feel his question before he asked it.  
  
"Though I can't deny I am delighted," he informed her in a monotone and she snorted. "I can't help but find myself wondering why."  
  
She rolled her eyes. "Ron is and always has been a man with a child in his eyes. Compared to our scintillating conversations about the properties of dragon dung, Quidditch seems so juvenile." Distractedly, she shoved her quill into her tangled mass of hair and avoided his gaze. "I found him with another woman."  
  
"Fascinating." In his current mood, Snape was not surprised at the hot anger that licked through him at her quiet confession. Since the night he had woken up in the hospital wing after trying to cut that infernal mark out of his life, he'd been oddly protective of the young woman now fidgeting with her hair. His opinion of Hermione's choice of partner had never been high and he'd informed of this several times, always in the acid tones she remembered from her school days. He could just imagine how the scene had played out. Weasley had most likely staged it in the hopes Hermione would react with a shrieked "Get your filthy hands off my man!" When she'd failed to react, the boy had probably become angry and hurt her unnecessarily. His hands clenched tightly beneath the desk.  
  
"Actually, I'm glad," she sighed, interrupting his murderous thoughts. "I'd been looking for an excuse to set myself free. I walked in and dropped the key on the both of them while Ron stared at me stupidly."  
  
"Ah, I see." He felt an uncharacteristic flash of embarrassment at her words and returned his attention to his cauldron. Silence reigned for several minutes and he heard her begin to pack her things away with a vague sense of relief.   
  
Hermione hefted her satchel onto her shoulder and glanced at the dark figure hunched over the table. As she watched him stir the potion bubbling in the thick black cauldron, it suddenly occurred to her that she knew very little about him despite the time they spent working in the dungeon together. His announcement earlier had floored her and she realized that if she left the room, they would never speak of it again. As the time crept towards the midnight hour, Hermione dropped her bulging bag of books to floor and strode over to Snape's worktable. As she had done so many times during her apprenticeship, she perched herself on the edge of the table and watched her professor. When he looked at her, one eyebrow raised, she forced herself to draw forth all of the Gryffindor courage she possessed and throw caution to the wind.  
  
"Tell me about what happened with Persia," she said and held her breath. 


	3. Chapter 3: Confrontation

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, just like to play with 'em.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 3 – Confrontation  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Tell me about what happened with Persia," she said and held her breath.  
  
Fathomless black eyes stared back at her. "Get out of my workroom, Granger," he purred dangerously.  
  
"I will not. If I leave this room, Merlin knows what you will do to yourself."  
  
"And what are you planning to do, Miss Granger? Come to my rescue? Save me from myself and all that nonsense you spouted three years ago?  
  
"I've done it before and I'll do it again!" She leaned over the table and stared down at the man who had taught her and frightened her for nearly a decade.  
  
He stood finally and slammed his open palms down on the table, satisfaction filling him as his apprentice nearly fell off the edge of the table. "Did it ever occur to you, you stupid heedless Gryffindor, that I didn't ever want to be saved?!" He ran his hand wildly through his long black hair, long pale fingers shaking. "My usefulness was gone, my purpose fulfilled, and all I had to show for my life was the throbbing mark of a pure evil forever etched into my skin. I had no cause for celebration, no parties thrown in my honor. I wanted to die, to finish out this worthless existence and finally be free but you, you didn't let me. You cannot save me, Hermione, for there was never anything there to save."  
  
"But-"  
  
"No!" He shouted at her. "I am a cold blooded bastard, a cruel, sadistic shell of a man and I have lived far longer than I have deserved. When I woke up in the hospital wing, shocked and surprised that I was not dead on the stone floor of my office, I realized that if I could not die properly, I needed to live properly. A home, a woman, a…family, that's what I wanted. I allowed myself to hope and look where it has gotten me. If you had just allowed me to die…"  
  
"I couldn't," she whispered. He hated the pity in her eyes.  
  
"I know." In that moment, master and apprentice, student and teacher, man and woman finally understood one another. Snape felt his anger melting away as silence filled the void his confession had left. Not meeting her eyes, he turned away from Hermione and settled himself back down in his chair. His head fell forward into his hands and he knew that the forever inquisitive Miss Granger would soon ask her question once more. He wasn't wrong.  
  
"Why isn't Persia pregnant?"   
  
"She wasn't ever. She charmed herself to make me believe she was." He still didn't look at her.  
  
"But why?" Damned nosy Gryffindor. He barely prevented the involuntary rolling of his eyes at her insistent tone.  
  
"She is a liar. We're well suited, her and I."  
  
Hermione looked thoughtful. "There must be some other explanation. You adore…" she trailed off as he fixed a glare upon her. "You mean, you don't love her?"  
  
"No."  
  
"But she's been your lover for two years! You wanted to start a family with her!" Snape heard the incredulity in her voice and couldn't help but sneer.  
  
"In my experience, Miss Granger, love hardly factors into such matters." He finally looked at her and was vaguely surprised at the fury etched across her features. She was nearly shaking with it.  
  
"Like hell, it doesn't! Children, marriage, all those things you claim to want require it!"  
  
He couldn't help but goad her. "Hardly."  
  
"So you would have raised her child, married her, knowing the whole time that she was not your soul mate?"  
  
He found himself laughing mirthlessly at that naïve question. "Soul mate, Miss Granger? Such unexpected sentimentality coming from you, the brainy level headed foil to Potter and Weasley's passionate impulsivity. Who, I wonder, would inspire such ardor in the normally intellectual Hermione Granger?"   
  
"You great greasy git!"  
  
"Alliteration is unbecoming to you, Miss Granger."  
  
"Stuff it!" She yanked her book bag so hard the strap snapped apart and spilled the contents across the floor. She dropped to her knees and began to agitatedly collect her belongings. "You know nothing about me, nothing at all! Oh ho, but I know you, believe me I know you. I know you are the most insufferable-" she stuffed in a handful of quills. "…brilliant…" Her inkbottle followed. "…snarky…" Her parchment of notes. "…bastard alive." She thrust her books back in the bag and stood to face her professor, eyes blazing and heart on her sleeve. "And I've been in love with you for three years but you're too bloody blind to see it! So take your self pity and your stupid derisive ideas of love and shove them up your arse!" The Gryffindor in her reared its lion head and she found herself staring defiantly into Snape's eyes.  
  
Severus Snape could honestly say that he had only been truly surprised twice in his life before that moment. The first time had been at his first Dark Revel when he was just five days past his eighteenth birthday and already well on his way to becoming one of the most masterful potion brewers of his generation. On that night, he'd become an official Deatheater and he'd been shocked at the tangible disgust he'd experienced during that night's activities. To this day, he still could not remember what had actually happen, only that roiling feeling of complete revulsion that had driven him to Dumbledore a mere six months later. The second surprise of his life had come when he'd woken up in the hospital wing after shredding his arm - alive.  
  
Standing in front of him, a bulging book bag slung over her shoulder, slightly frizzy hair escaping from her hastily tied up bun, and a look of supreme determination on her face, was the biggest surprise of his life. The student and apprentice was still there, evident in the sensible shoes, knee socks, and black over-robes she wore, but for the first time ever he was forced to see her as a woman. And his reaction was more disturbing than any emotion he had ever felt at a Dark Revel.  
  
"Miss Granger, I hardly think that is appropriate," was the only thing he could find in his mind to say so he drawled it out as soon as he regained the capacity for speech. The woman before him seemed to wilt slightly and she began to worry at her bottom lip with her teeth. He watched her nod once before turning and walking determinedly toward the door.   
  
"Miss Granger-" He called after he as her fingertips touched the doorknob. She hesitated for a bare fraction of a second before wrenching the door open, suddenly desperate to escape. The unidentifiable feelings rushed through him again and he stood, shaken and panicky, and called her name again. "Hermione!"  
  
Without a look backward, she slipped through the door and was gone.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N: Well, that was a surprising chapter! I didn't really intend for Hermione to fess up just yet but she apparently had different ideas. This chapter was very difficult for me because I began the story without a clear idea of where it was going. Now that I'm over the hump, I've worked out the rest and I figure there'll be two more chapters after this one. Thanks for reading and please review! ~ Sara 


	4. Chapter 4: Isn't it Ironic?

Chapter 4 – Isn't it Ironic?  
  
Angry was not the word to describe Hermione Granger as she stalked through the dungeon halls to her quarters. Livid, furious, in a towering rage; none of these quite described the way her hands were shaking, the tight clenching of her teeth, or the jumbled state of her thoughts. She was just plain brassed off and it was all because of the infuriating man she'd left gaping after her.  
  
What the bloody hell were you thinking, Granger, she thought crossly to herself. But if she was really honest with herself, she knew it would have only been a matter of time before she'd blurted it out anyway. She still wasn't quite certain when it had happened but as she'd watched Severus Snape's life drain away that fateful night, she'd known deep in her heart she would never be the same. It was for this reason she had pushed so hard to become his apprentice. As she flung open the door to her rooms and slammed it shut behind her, she found herself thinking of that afternoon.  
  
****  
  
Hermione stood with her hand resting lightly on the door to the Hospital Wing, gathering her courage about her like a warm winter cloak. She was about to beard the lion – or rather, the snake – in its den and she wasn't quite sure how to go about it. The heavens knew, Severus Snape could be the most difficult of men to convince but she intended to do it. The practical side of her hated to be melodramatic but the romantic side knew that her very life depended at that moment solely on her persuasive skills.  
  
Steeling herself for the task at hand, Hogwart's Head Girl pushed the door open, entered the room, and headed down the long row of beds towards the solitary occupant sitting beside the window. Although she took special care in treading lightly, he seemed to sense her presence and turned to watch her with impossibly dark eyes. The bandage on his left arm gleamed snowy white in the late afternoon sun, a glaring contrast to the darkness of the man who wore it. Reaching the invalid's chair, she drew herself up to her full height and looked him straight in the eye.  
  
"Professor Snape, I've decided I want to become your apprentice as soon as I graduate," she stated in clearly rehearsed tones. In typical Gryffindor fashion, she'd decided the blunt approach would work best and the result was only to be expected.  
  
"No, Miss Granger," he drawled and turned away from her to glare out the window once more. Hermione stood nervously in place, completely at a loss. In the scenarios she'd played out in her mind, he'd always ranted and raved before reluctantly acquiescing. His next words drenched her in cold. "I will soon be leaving this world."  
  
"Professor, no! You can't do that, not after I saved you, not now…I-I don't know if anyone told you but I was the one who found you and saved you from yourself and you just can't go and do it again," she babbled in fear. "Not now that I…"  
  
"If you are quite finished now," Snape's expression could only be described as bemused. "I have decided to engage in work in the public sector and will merely be leaving the world of Hogwarts." Hermione managed to blush a bright pink under his amused gaze, hotly embarrassed but no less determined.  
  
"Regardless of what you meant, it doesn't change the fact that you cannot go. According to the Potions Handbook section eight chapter three, all Potions Masters are required to train at least one apprentice during their lifetimes so that the subtle art of potions making is not lost to future generations."  
  
"I am fully aware of the terms of section eight chapter three and I do believe that one of the stipulations of said requirement is that I am allowed to choose my apprentice, not the other way around." He quirked an eyebrow in Hermione's direction, silently daring her to continue the game.  
  
Sensing victory, she rose to the occasion. "I am the brightest witch to come through Hogwarts in the last fifty years, Professor."  
  
"In your opinion, Miss Granger, not mine. I'm afraid I am unconvinced."  
  
"My potions O.W.L. was the highest in a century and my N.E.W.T. is sure to be as well."  
  
"You are becoming cocky, Miss Granger." He smirked triumphantly at her. "Pride is not something I find useful in an apprentice. Furthermore, though your grades are more than passing, I find your presence irksome. Therefore, my answer remains the same."  
  
Hermione gazed at the intolerable Potions Master and felt tears coming to her eyes despite her efforts to blink them back. "But Professor, I need this. I need you."  
  
For the first time in his life, Severus Snape felt something move deep inside him at his student's words. She looked forlorn and deflated, conditions he would have normally exploited to his advantage, but he felt no desire to strike a killing blow. In the place behind his heart, he felt as she did. Against his nature and his better judgment, he gave in to her gracefully.  
  
"If your potions N.E.W.T. is up to scratch, Miss Granger, I consent to take you on as my apprentice," he sighed in resignation. Unexpected guilt welled up inside him as he watched the joy and relief spread across her face, heard her babbling thanks. She acted as if she'd been given her greatest wish and he felt distinctly unworthy of her gushing gratitude.  
  
A moment later, she was gone, and he returned to his window, vaguely unsettled by the new lightness in his soul. Three days later, at a ministry celebration of the fall of Voldemort, he'd met Persia and completely forgotten the warmth he'd felt on that cold December afternoon.  
  
****  
  
Upon entering her room, Hermione had dropped her bag and flung herself backwards onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Her anger had faded away and she carefully considered every word that had come out of her Potions Master's mouth. Now that her shock and irritation had melted away, she realized that he had been purposefully antagonizing her. She sighed and pulled herself into a sitting position in the middle of her four poster bed.  
  
Facing her across the room was a full length free standing mirror, a gift from her mother upon graduation. It was an antique and the only piece of furniture in the room she actually owned as well as one of only a few personal items. She studied her reflection for several moments, disgustedly taking in her tangled and bushy brown hair, her plain oval face, and the voluminous black robes she'd worn since her sixth year at Hogwarts. The quill she had stuck in her hair down in the dungeons was still there although a bit bedraggled looking. She looked every inch a student and the complete antithesis of everything Persia Pendleton was.  
  
Hermione's first glimpse of Persia had come shortly after she had moved into the dungeons and begun her apprenticeship. She'd walked into the potions lab to find a woman sitting unconcernedly on Professor Snape's personal work table. The woman had waist length brown hair that turned in loose curls as smooth as Hermione's were tangled, silvery gray eyes that were nonchalantly studying her flawless manicure, and beautiful translucent skin. She was also quite petite, well dressed, and impeccably made up. Next to her, Hermione had felt like a frumpy, giant cow. Hermione had been rude, Persia coolly polite, and when Professor Snape had come in and greeted the beautiful woman with a kiss, Hermione had been devastated.  
  
They were introduced of course and Hermione had made apologies, stammering and making an utter fool of herself in her surprise and disappointment. She had then gone on with her duties in the lab, carefully avoiding being within ten feet of the couple whispering quietly near the worktable. Soon afterward, Persia had left, the heels of her elegant boots clicking against the cold stone floor and Hermione had carefully avoided any personal contact with Severus Snape like the black plague.  
  
But that damn man hadn't let her be. Gradually, through his far too casual offhand remarks, she'd begun to learn more about the woman she had begun to silently loathe. Her pure, aristocratic breeding, her gentle intelligent nature, and most disheartening: her superb performance in bed. She was first to know of their plans for a family, the first to hear of their success, and the only person aside from Albus who even knew of the affair.   
  
Unrequited love could be a bitch.  
  
****  
  
Sitting in the dark once again, sipping firewhiskey for the second time that night, Severus Snape was truly baffled at the turn his life had taken. Hermione's angry declaration had shaken him to the very core and he was too tired to be annoyed by it. Love had always been a bother, something to scoff at and generally ignore as he had never experienced it in his life up to that point. He's dealings with Persia had always been cold and calculated, though he hadn't thought so at the time.   
  
As he took another sip of the firewhiskey, the heavy dungeon door creaked open and a curly brown head poked into the room. Speak of the devil.  
  
"Hello Persia," he drawled over the rim of his glass. "I can't say I'm surprised to see you." The slight woman slipped into the room and Snape noted the slim curves of her body under her cloak with a grim amusement.  
  
"Severus, I feel awful about all of this," Persia twisted her slender hands together as her lover regarded her calmly from under hooded eyelids.   
  
"I'm sure you do," was his soft reply. The gently spoken words did little to put her at ease and she stared at him at a complete loss for words. He quirked an eyebrow and smirked at her.  
  
"I-I do, I really do," she finally found her voice. Now that she had started, it was easier and her voice once again took on the dulcet tones she had so carefully cultivated. "I was supposed to make you happy and you seemed hell bent on this idea of a child. So I did what I could. The Ministry provided the solution…" She took a deep breath. "…as well as the original assignment."  
  
"Ah." Was all the reply he gave her.   
  
"I'm sure you can understand our position, Severus. With your unstable behavior and previous…dark…ties, we felt it was in your and the community's best interest to placate you. We – I never meant for it to go this far."  
  
"Miss Pendleton, I have little use for your excuses and justifications as I am sure you understand. Please give my regards to the ministry." He flung back the remainder of his drink and stood. "Now get out."  
  
Persia gave the dark man before her a long look, sweeping his entire person with her gaze, the expression on her face unreadable. "Professor Snape, I do have one piece of information you may find interesting. Hermione Granger – "  
  
"Out!" He roared unexpectedly and she gratefully turned tail and left. He passed a hand over his forehead and nearly growled under his breath. Persia's explanation, if it could be called that, had matched nearly exactly the conclusion he had come to on his own. It was the irony of the situation that had enraged him as Persia let Hermione's name slip from her lips. If the ministry had just left well enough alone…  
  
Well, it was about time he rectified the situation.  
  
To be continued… 


End file.
